A Shadow Of My Former Self (repost)
by MiZ PuNk
Summary: 'It's the end of the world as we know it. It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.' (Belongs to REM)


Author's Note and Disclaimer:  
I own nothing except the story. J. K. Rowling owns the characters. My first HP ficcy. I'll post more if I get good reviews on this story. If you're going to flame me, please do so creatively. Tell me the brutal truth about this story. Whether flames or praise, please tell me. Thanx. Now I shall leave you to decide for yourself. May I introduce, 'A Shadow Of My Former Self'.  
  
A Shadow Of My Former Self  
  
Dead. Gone. Deserted. Those three words decribe my life for the past three years, and the world today.   
Harry's dead. An 'accident'. Right. But we know the truth. Or what's left of us, anyways. But what is the truth anymore? It all just seems like one bad dream that we can't wake up from. It doesn't matter anymore, nothing does. Anymore.  
Harry's been dead since our sixth year. No one bothered to check the 'good luck' charm which he got. No one thought we'd be betrayed. That he'd betray us. Or his best friend. That's right. Ron.  
The whole time, we were simply puppets with him as the puppeteer. He seemed different when we came back from holidays. We just thought it was puberty. Yeah, Voldemort induced puberty, is more like it. Gave Harry the 'good luck' charm to 'protect' him from Voldemort. More like give him to Voldemort. Portkey. That's what it was. Muggles found him pierced on some jagged rocks, at the bottom of a cliff. Barely alive. They said his last words were, "Portkey. Charm. Ron. Deatheater." Ron fled soon afterwards.   
Dumbledore was next on their list. A few months later, they came to Hogwarts. Snape was killed when they attacked. Tried to protect Dumbledore, I suppose. Dumbledore got away. Not for long. Two days later, his body washed up on a beach. Everything fell apart after that. Our two protectors, dead.   
The Weaslys died at the hands of their youngest son. I was the one to find them. I felt something wasn't right, so I went to the Burrow. I'll never forget that sight. All that was there, was a pile of smoldering ruins. The Mark was floating above it. Their charred bodies where scattered all over the place. I found Ginny where her room used to be, she was the worst. Her face was completly deformed. I could barely recognize her. I heard something behind me. It was Ron. "How could you?!", I screamed at him with my emotions showing on my face. "Ron! Your own family! How could you?!", I screamed over and over. He calmly replied, "They were weak, and so are you." Then, he walked away. Once he was gone, I cried 'til I didn't have any tears left. That was the last time I cried.  
Draco had been a Deatheater, but turned spy for us. That didn't last either. A muggle reporter was doing a news brief on the lastest muggle killing spree. Lucius cornered his son right behind her. Then, performed the Killing Curse on him. Saw it on TV.  
The Deatheaters used Azkaban as a prison, the dementors were still there. They put those who didn't agree with them there. After awhile, they took them out, only to torture them to death.   
We were so desperate to defeat Voldemort, we reaveled ourselves, and our world to the mugles. It was no use. Most of the world, that didn't follow Voldemort was already dead. Our futile attempts only spurred them on. The few of us that remained, fled. That's where we are now. In a small cave, high up in the Andes mountains. There are only forty of us. That's all that's left in the world that hasn't either been killed, one to the Dark Side, or in Azkaban. None of us know each other, well a few do.   
Rita Skeeter is scribbling away with her badly singed, acid green quill, putting our pathetic attempts on parchment. Viktor went mad, and jumped of the cliff a week ago. And the rest of us are either pacing the rest of our lives away, babbling like madmen, or just sitting like myself.   
Voldemort and at least a hundred of his supporters, just burst in. Something new, and different for a change. No one does anything though, we just sit there waiting for the inevitable end. The Deatheater closet to me, is performing the Cruciatus Curse on yours truly. I don't feel anything though, I guess I'm too dead to feel anything. I get up and walk over to the ledge. He follows. I turn and realize it's Ron. Oh, the irony of it all. But at the moment, I just don't care. In any other situation, I'd be lad to see him, but since this is the case, I'm not. I can see Dudley smiling, as Voldemort himself, is preparing to kill him. I guess he's happy that it's finally over. I see Rita resisting, then I hear her say, "Wait, let me finish this, then you can kill me."  
I glance at the smoldering ruins of deserted civilization, as I hear Ron pull out his wand. "Good-bye, Hermione.", he says. "Good-bye, old friend.", I reply in a whisper.  
Here I am, twenty-three years old, and half-dead, soon to be done with life. I'll die as a shadow. A shadow of my former self.  
  



End file.
